


Summer Tides

by solarfemm



Series: The candy of your thoughts [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Explicit Fluff, Explicit Sex, M/M, Top Bucky Barnes, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfemm/pseuds/solarfemm
Summary: Steve doesn’t give a shit if the world finds out, if they hate him for it, if they think he’s weak, because all he wants is Bucky, any way he can have him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: The candy of your thoughts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811122
Comments: 24
Kudos: 286





	Summer Tides

Steve will never get over how easy it is to pick Bucky up, how good it feels for Bucky to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist and feel his dick hard through his uniform, feel how easily Bucky gives himself over. He never could do it before; weak and sick, Steve could barely get out of bed some days. But now he’s strong, agile, and can lift a motorcycle with three women on it above his head. He can lift Bucky above his head, too, but Bucky squeaked and thrashed when Steve showed him the first time just how easy it was, so they didn’t try it again. 

Now that they’re reunited, they get into these situations often, kissing behind trees when no one’s looking, rutting against each other in their tents at night when someone else is on duty, sucking each other off in the showers and no one batting an eyelash because a mouth is a mouth is a mouth. Or like now, when they finally have a room to themselves above a pub, their bellies full of food and Bucky’s breath like leftover whiskey, sour and hot. 

They kiss and kiss and kiss, Bucky’s tongue in Steve’s mouth, and he sucks on it, his teeth on Bucky’s lip, for what feels like hours. They are undaunted by the cresting moon that shines its light through the window, finally unhindered by the time that takes them away from each other during the day. Steve presses Bucky back into the wall, shifting his hips lazily and swallowing the low noises Bucky makes into his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re sweet to me,” Bucky says, molasses thick, honey-drip slow. He fits his palm to the curve of Steve’s jaw, curling his fingers around Steve’s ear like he’s holding on. “Just wanna mess you up real nice.”

“Do it, then,” Steve says, teasing, and Bucky, with laughter bubbling up, swipes his hand through the Brylcreem in Steve’s hair, rank from a day of shooting propaganda reels, roughing it up while Steve pouts. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then,” Bucky says, with heat in his eyes, in his voice. “You want me to fuck you, is that it?”

“Yeah.” Steve chokes the sound out. They haven’t done that in a while, not since before they left Brooklyn, because Bucky didn’t want anyone to find out about it and tell the whole damn world that Steve likes it, Steve takes it as good as Bucky gives it, his body working like a slot machine for Bucky’s cock, because what would America think? What would their squad think? The Howlies wouldn’t give a shit, but if word got out, there’s not much Phillips or Peggy or Howard’s money could do to protect Steve from that. 

Steve doesn’t give a shit if the world finds out, if they hate him for it, if they think he’s weak, because all he wants is Bucky, any way he can have him. But Steve wouldn’t do it if it meant that Bucky got the short end of the stick. Steve would rather shut his mouth for the rest of his life than let even one person look at Bucky like he wasn’t worth shit. Bucky thinks he’s protecting Steve like he’s always done, and Steve thinks he’s protecting Bucky, an ouroboros of codependency and self-sacrifice that will see them doomed to repeat their mistakes. 

But for now, they have this. 

“Say it,” Bucky says, an order. Bucky is the only one whose orders Steve will follow, and he knows it. 

“God, I want you to fuck me,” Steve says in a rush, feels his face burn even though they’ve done this a thousand times if they’ve done it once. He knows it makes Bucky hot to see him flush, to see him worked up, to feel him squirm when Bucky’s tongue licks into him, and Steve would do anything to make Bucky look at him like that—like he’s hungry, like he _wants_.

Bucky drops out of Steve’s grip and rips at Steve’s uniform, undoing the straps and buckles with practiced ease, tossing it aside, letting Steve’s pants drop to his ankles before hegoes with them.

The sight of Bucky on his knees is enough to get Steve from casually hard to almost all the way there, his cock jutting out obscenely, but instead of what Steve thinks is going to happen, Bucky surprises him again. He tugs on the laces of Steve’s boots, undoing them deftly and carefully, tapping Steve’s ankles in turn to get him to lift his feet. He’s so gentle when he does it that Steve aches just to hold him. He’s a fool for Bucky; loving Bucky has turned him into a goddamn fool. He knows that Bucky is his blind spot and that people have exploited that and will keep doing so, but the only alternative is to send him home, which Bucky doesn’t want, and Steve needs to keep him in sight, needs to have Bucky with him at all times in case he almost dies again. 

Steve wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Bucky died. 

His erection hasn’t softened by the time Bucky sits back on his heels; if anything he’s harder, desperate with the need to press Bucky against him, and he reaches out to cup his hand underneath his jaw, tilting his head up. Bucky’s eyelashes are a mile long and feather his cheeks black. His lips open in a soft moue and Steve keeps watching him to see what he’ll do, paralysed when Bucky opens his eyes to look at him and see him for who he is. 

“Come on, Buck,” Steve says, “let’s get you outta those clothes.”

Bucky stands, undoing his belt and tossing it onto the small table next to the door. Steve takes note of their surroundings for the first time since they entered the room: nondescript bed-table-chair-wardrobe set-up, but the bed is big enough for both of them, and the door locks. Bucky stops for a second before he digs through his belt pockets to come up with a tube of K-Y with a flourish.

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Steve has to kiss him for that, saying, “You think of everything,” while trying to devour him. 

He pulls at the rest of Bucky’s clothes with a lot less finesse than Bucky pulled at Steve’s, undoing the buttons of his coat and trousers, pushing him down onto the bed to get his gaiters off, and Bucky laughs and laughs while Steve tears at the laces of his boots, huffing and puffing, until Bucky’s boots are gone and his pants are off and then they’re both _finally_ naked. 

Steve kneels between Bucky’s legs to look down at the miles of skin before him. Without Bucky’s coat hiding him, he’s scarred and thin, nowhere near the fighting weight that he was when he shipped out, and Steve is rabid with the desire to feed him until he can’t stand. He could lie in bed for days while Steve fetches things for him, bringing him roast lamb and chicken legs and enough potatoes to feed an army. 

That’s what they’ll do when the war ends, he thinks. Eat in bed for days. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Bucky sits up on his elbows with a grin. His cock is lying flushed and heavy against his thigh, and Steve wants it in his mouth, so he takes it. He leans forward to suckle at the head while he wraps one hand around the shaft and another under Bucky’s thigh to ground them both. He tastes like the sour twist of day-old sweat and the precome leaking out of him, his own taste that Steve can’t get enough of, in the field or in the camp or here in town.

Every time he sees someone talking to Bucky, some other guy with a square jaw or some pretty girl with her hand on Bucky’s arm, he feels the beast of jealousy rage inside him. Bucky is his, goddamn it, Bucky is Steve’s. He knows it, which is the only reason Steve can stomach anyone else near him. Bucky would never step out on him, and even if he did, he’d want Steve along for the ride. 

But he isn’t used to sharing Bucky; all the girls he dances with are just for show, usually have their own sweethearts, because girls who like girls are just as hated as guys who like guys. They’ve known the taste and sweat of each other since they were teenagers rolling around in Bucky’s bed in his parents’ house, careful not to make too much noise in case it woke the house up, coming into each other’s hands and loving each other with abandon.

Steve sucks Bucky further down while Bucky’s hands clench in his hair and Steve gets his arms under both of Bucky’s thighs to throw them over his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky says, the word rolling sweetly off his tongue. “The things you do to me. Steve—” He murmurs his name as Steve pulls back, slips Bucky’s cock out of his mouth to nuzzle his face against it, wet with spit and precome, dragging it across his cheeks and nose, rubbing his lips against it. “Now you’re just teasing,” Bucky says, but he’s laughing because he loves this as much as Steve does, getting them both as dirty as possible, fucking in foolish ways. 

Steve takes him in again, sinking down until his nose is buried in Bucky’s pubic hair, pulling back, sinking again, pulling back, working up a rhythm that has Bucky keening. 

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he says, his thumb rubbing against Steve’s cheek and jawline. “Prettier than sin, you are.”

Bucky’s the only one who thinks of Steve as _pretty_, like he’s some sweet thing Bucky’s taking to the pictures, not the guy he’s been fucking since they were seventeen. Steve glances up to see Bucky looking down at him, face flushed and hair sticking to his skin, something not even the drab lighting can make ugly. Bucky’s the most beautiful guy Steve’s ever seen; he’s never wanted anyone else before Peggy, and Bucky’s okay with that, he is, as long as he’s still _getting his sugar at home_.

And why would Steve give this up? Bucky’s been the apple of his eye since he was 12. No one makes him feel the way Bucky does, like he’s got purpose, like he’s worth something more than just the bars on his chest or the name he carries. Bucky looks at him, like he’s doing now, like he’s precious.

“Fuck, get up here, Steve,” he says, letting his legs fall open and leading Steve up by the hand on the side of his neck. Bucky pulls him into his lap, even though Steve’s not sure Bucky can take his weight, feels like Bucky’s going to give out under him, and kisses Steveagain, gasping into it when he tastes himself. 

He reaches a hand between them to feel Steve’s dick, hard now from having Bucky in his mouth, smearing precome around as he swipes over the head, and Steve gasps too, moans into Bucky’s mouth as they kiss. 

“You get all wet for me, baby?” Bucky asks, and Steve feels himself flush again. He’s never going to get over the way Bucky’s words make him feel: they split him open and expose him to the air, pull out all of his secrets and stuff Bucky’s secrets back inside. “Did you? Yeah.”

“Buck,” Steve says, hissing when Bucky squeezes him, starts to stroke him all the way hard.

“I know you did. Steve, Stevie. Only guy who can get you like this is me, right?” 

Steve’s not sure that even Bucky knows what he’s saying, but he’s riling Steve up so good like nothing else ever does. “Yeah, Bucky, yeah, god.”

Bucky drags his lips up the column of Steve’s throat, biting when he reaches the top. “Want me to fuck you? Huh, Steve? Want me to give it to you?”

Steve shudders, caught between Bucky’s hand and his mouth, and if Steve’s too heavy for him now, Bucky would never say anything, so Steve tips onto his back and pulls Bucky with him, opening his legs for Bucky to crawl between. “Yeah, Buck, ‘course.”

Bucky crowds him, easing between Steve’s thighs with focus, kissing up his belly and sternum and throat again, up and up with their bodies pressed together until Steve can feel Bucky’s cock drag against his own, and Steve arches into it, trying to chase that contact.

“Saw how you were looking at Carter today,” Bucky says against Steve’s jaw. His hand comes up to rest on Steve’s throat, claiming him the way the ocean claims the shore in the summer, licking up all that heat. He rolls his hips just enough to get Steve going again, pressing his nose to Steve’s hairline and breathing him in, in a way that makes Steve weak. Everything Bucky does makes a mess of him. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve can barely get the words out. “What’d you see?”

“Saw how much you wanted to get bent over that table,” Bucky bites the words into Steve’s ear, his jaw, licking over it. He runs his other hand up Steve’s stomach, squeezing his pec, savouring the feel of his nipples as they go hard and sensitive. That’s his favourite part, Steve knows; Bucky spends hours adoring Steve’s chest, will fall asleep cupping it, says he’s bigger and softer than any girl he’s been with, says he wants to nap there, spend his life there. God, what Steve wouldn’t do for this man. “Saw you wanted to get fucked so good you can’t walk. Bet she’d do it to you? Bet she’d get one of her toys and make you feel as good as I can?”

“N-no,” Steve stumbles, because it’s true. “No one makes me feel as good as you, Buck.” The words come as natural as breathing but always so much easier. Loving Bucky has been the easiest thing in Steve’s life, something he’s never had to second-guess. 

“You’re damn right,” Bucky says, sinking his teeth into Steve’s collarbone hard enough to bruise, and Steve jolts at the feeling of it. “How about now? You want me to fuck you now?”

“Been waiting for it,” Steve says, gritting the words out. Bucky’s body is hot on his, gathering sweat and the dirt between them, the kind that sticks, the kind that stays. They have a shower ready for them after this, and if Bucky’s good for it they can go again, because Steve’s always good for it, always wants to go in ways he never could before. 

Bucky leans back and takes all that warmth with him, searching in the bedsheets for the tube of K-Y. He holds it up when he finds it, with a triumphant smile, like the day has been good to him, and Steve laughs, can’t help falling in love with this man every day of his life, over and over again. 

“You want my fingers?” He holds them up, wiggles them, but Steve shakes his head.

“Just want you, come on already.” Bucky laughs, squirts some jelly into his hand to slick up his cock. “And you call me a goddamn tea—_oh_—” The word is cut off by the feeling of Bucky’s dick pressing into him, hard and hot and heavy, cleaving him open like a tree being felled. Oh, and Steve does fall.

“God, you’re so tight, so hot,” Bucky says, not much more than panting the words into the air made humid by sex. He pushes in and Steve makes it easier for him by bearing down, letting him all the way in until Bucky’s hips press against the backs of Steve’s thighs. Bucky opens his eyes when he does, his eyes so hot and blue in a way Steve couldn’t see before, before, before. Everything is befores and afters. After the serum; before Bucky knew how to fuck Steve so good like this. After Kreischberg; before Italy. After, before, before before, and now. They have now.

Bucky fucks into Steve with long, hard thrusts, dicking Steve down into the mattress until it’s all he can feel, cheap cotton sheets and Bucky’s long, thick cock. He feels full and nourished in a way a good meal and a cold beer doesn’t get him—only Bucky. Only Bucky’s skin on his skin, Bucky’s lips on his lips, Bucky’s hands on Steve’s body and Bucky’s dick inside him, wrenching those moans out of Steve’s mouth the way he does. It’s bliss. One hundred percent sure-fire, full-metal bliss.

“You’re so good for me, so open like this,” Bucky says, still pounding into him with those long, hard thrusts. Steve feels lit up all over, feels like his skin is on fire with the way Bucky’s getting at him. “God, you let me fuck you, it’s wild, it’s—something else, Stevie, you’re something else.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve says, letting his mouth fall open, scrabbling at Bucky’s back with his fingers, something to hold onto. “Oh, Bucky, yeah, yes, like that,” as Bucky hits that spot. “Buck, please, fill me up.”

“You gonna come for me?” Bucky growls it out. He reaches up to stuff his fingers in Steve’s mouth, and all Steve can do is moan, suckle them, get them wet, nodding. “Yeah, you’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

“Mmmh,” Steve says, as best he can around those fingers. He feels heat all over his body, everywhere he and Bucky touch and everywhere they don’t, his muscles tensing up as Bucky hits that spot again and again, coming untouched all over himself, spurting onto his own chin and chest.

Bucky leans down to lick it off him and Steve keens at the contact.

“Buck, come in me, god, I want you to, I want—”

“I know you want it,” Bucky says, “I know how you want it, baby, I’m gonna give it to you, I got you—” and he comes in spurts into Steve, gasping, burying his face in Steve’s chest. His dick stays hard for a minute, and Steve relishes the feel of it, making his oversensitive body twitch every time Bucky moves. 

Bucky doesn’t collapse on Steve, but Steve wouldn’t mind it if he did. He can take the weight. He can take anything Bucky gives him.

Bucky braces himself on his elbows and looks down at Steve with an expression so soft that Steve almost wouldn’t believe the filth he just spoke had come out of that mouth. “Hey, doll.”

Steve must give his own equally fond look because Bucky’s smile brightens even more. “Hey. Hey, Buck.”

“Was that good for you?”

“Yeah.” He kisses Bucky again, letting himself feel the love he has, the love Bucky gives him. It’s exquisite and deafening; the air raid siren could go off at any minute and Steve wouldn’t care. Let him die here with Bucky if he has to. It would be a fine way to go.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to kit for the beta!!!!!!!!
> 
> come hang out with me on [twitterrrrrr](http://twitter.com/sommarpatriot)


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